Memory Lane
by Girl Next Door 92
Summary: The Capitol have tortured him beyond recognition. 'Amnesia' the doctor calls it. His memories of me are not tainted, but they are gone altogether. AU after Peeta's capture from the Quarter Quell.


**Memory Lane  
**

**The Capitol have tortured him beyond recognition. 'Amnesia' the doctor calls it. His memories of me are not tainted, but they are gone altogether. AU after Peeta's capture from the Quarter Quell. **

Her memories are cumbersome and haunted. Sometimes, Katniss wishes she would not remember quite so vividly the colour and shape of Prim's blue eyes, the broadness of Peeta's shoulders and the cocky timbre of Finnick's voice.

But she feels grateful still, that the memories exist, weighing on her conscience. Grateful that she remembers the past. Grateful that she can cling to those memories, like beads of water cling to glass.

They ground her. She does not know what it feels like for Peeta. Isolated by people as well as his own memories.

When Peeta had been rescued from the Capitol, she had been ecstatic and rushed to find him. The memory draws her into a cesspool that exists only in her mind.

_She rushes into the room. The walls are whitewashed, clean white bed sheets are tucked into the sides of the mattress, and antiseptic is sprayed at periodic intervals. _

_He sits up on the hospital bed when she walks in._

_"Peeta," she breathes. Her heart beats faster and her palms feel slick. He regards her with confusion from the bedside, and she thinks he must be so out of it that his reaction is delayed. She doesn't hug him impulsively like she wants to, but steps closer and closer until her chest brushes his. He surveys her with strangely blank eyes—but its _Peeta's_ blue, blue eyes that look back at her, and she's longed for a glimpse of them for so long. _

_She doesn't want to tell him while he's still recovering, but she's been holding in the words for so long. _So_ damn_ _long. "I love you," she says. And she reaches for his hand. She grips it tightly, and suddenly, she can't stop saying what she only just realized after he had disappeared from the arena._

_"I love you," she repeats, over and over. She smiles weakly at him. "I love you." She clutches at his hand._

_The blond lashes flick as he blinks rapidly. And she realizes that he isn't squeezing her hand back. She relaxes her grip, and he pulls his hand away and wipes it discreetly on the striped pyjama pants he wears. _

_ "Peeta?" she rasps. _

_He looks at her vacantly and inches away on the clean bedspread. His eyes widen, similar to squirrels in the woods of District 12, the instant before she shoots them in the eye._

_Her hand feels clammy. Her chest contracts. She looks blindly towards the nurses that hover anxiously by the heart monitor. _

_"Doctor? Where's the doctor?" she hears herself asking. A nurse takes her by the arm and leads her behind a mint green curtain. If she were more conscious, she would note that this side of the curtain resembled an operating room with its scanners and control knobs. The doctor hovers over a black-and-white printout, scratching on the margins with a runny pen._

_She steps closer until the doctor's eyes are level with hers. "What's wrong with him?" she demands._

_The doctor startles and bites his pen, before helping her into a chair. "Doctor Aurelius," he introduces himself, shaking her hand. But she feels too faint for pleasantries._

_"Peeta has amnesia. It's quite uncommon, despite what the soap operas would have you think. We've used the most advanced brain imaging techniques we have available here, and they all point towards damage to Peeta's right temporal lobe." Doctor Aurelius continues earnestly, "I can only guess that his head was hit with something hard, perhaps to discipline him."_

_"Is it permanent?" she asks in a small voice._

_"It can be," he answers and her heart sinks. "But it generally isn't. Patients usually regain their memories within a year, given a restful environment, surrounded by people they know." He smiles encouragingly._

_"How much does he remember?" she asks shakily._

_Doctor Aurelius hesitates. "As far as I can tell, he's lost all of his memories before the trauma."_

_Peeta doesn't remember her at all, she thinks, and her heart sinks at the realization. She stumbles to her feet and back into the room. _

_She's too late. _

_Unobserved by Peeta, she watches his hair flop comically as he leans back on to the bed. The moisture that gathers at the corners of her eyes embarrasses her, so she leaves to watch behind the tinted glass window. _

Memories of him haunt her. She remembers stolen kisses in a secluded cave and fiery open-mouthed kisses while they share watch. She longs to kiss him, to mould her mouth to his smiling one, and thread her fingers through his hair while they topple over on to her bed.

Nevertheless, Peeta's blue eyes are still kind and he is still as sweet as ever when she visits him in the hospital wing. He apologizes constantly for not remembering her. He apologizes for not loving her back, while she holds her hands stiffly at her side and trembles from the effort of keeping them away from Peeta's body.

He befriends the doctors and charms the nurses (as she'd known he would). When friends come to visit he makes it a game to decipher how he met them.

When she visits, she tells him stories of their lives before the Hunger Games. She tells him about hunting and Prim's pet goat and kitten, now cat. He wants to know about people, so she talks to him about Graesy Sae, Madge Undersee, Delly Cartwright, his father's kindness, and Peeta's own prowess as a baker.

Her insight into her own emotions is too late for him to reciprocate. Even so, she aches for his touch. And one morning, she tries to replace it.

_They've just finished training when Gale invites her to hunt with him in the woods surrounding District 13. It's a break from the gaping sadness that has resided within her since Peeta's rescue, so she readily agrees. _

_They make their way through the thicket in companionable silence until Gale clears his throat. She turns to look at him, fiddling with her braid._

_"I don't stand a chance anymore, do I?" __Gales questions with a sombre face. __"There's no way I can compete with that."_

_"With what?" she asks with a sinking heart._

_"With his memory loss. You only want him more because of it," Gale replies. "He doesn't want you, anymore," Gale persists. He casts his eyes downwards and says slowly, "How long will you want someone who doesn't want you too?"_

_And she feels anger coursing through her veins at his spiteful comment. One thing is for certain—she will _never _want Gale Hawthorne. She flicks her braid back over her shoulder. "I want him anyways," she counters. "He might not want me, but I'll want him, still," she whispers, realizing the veracity of her words._

_Gale steps forward towards her. She tries to push him away but he dips his mouth towards hers and restrains her flailing arms. She digs her fingernails into the tender skin at the base of his nails and scratches any skin within her reach, but he is unrelenting. "I'd want you back," he says. _

_She is shocked that he would resort to this tactic, but suddenly, all she can think is how desperate she is to be wanted, to be loved and she cannot escape the fact that Gale can give her all of these things. She stills her arms and lets him kiss her and bite her neck, sucking in a painful breath._

_"I love you," he hisses in her ear, and she feels suffocated in his arms. Peeta's declarations of love before his memory loss come back to her. She can't help but mentally contrast Gale's coarseness with Peeta saving her from Cato, and loving her wordlessly for twelve years. She aches for Peeta, any part of himself that he can give her. She pushes Gale away roughly, and he watches her darkly while she stalks off._

_She has had enough experience with love and loss to last a lifetime. _

It feels odd that he comforts her about his memory loss. "I'll remember someday soon," Peeta promises her sometimes when he catches her staring at him wistfully. She drowns herself in memories of his rejection.

_The day she hears that Prim has died, she wants her own life to finish. Gale strokes the side of her face, but some part of her is repulsed by his touch._

_She leaves him standing confusedly by the training station. Fleeing the crowd, she retreats to the roof of the building and hugs her knees to herself. The tears erupt with a force that leaves her hiccupping, unable to stop. The door opens momentarily, and she looks back to see Peeta walking towards her, his face drawn. _

_ "Please," she begs, "leave me." She imagines that she must have muddy tear tracks on her face._

_Instead he comes closer and pulls her into his arms, and his touch feels so, so good. Abruptly, she stops crying and just enjoys _him_. The clean smell of freshly baked bread and washed clothes that wafts from him. The light hand that moves up and down her back consolingly. The solidness of his broad shoulders._

_She's half in his lap, so when she lifts her head, he only has a moment to detect the shift in her emotions before she presses her mouth to his. _

_Desire licks at her consciousness. Hunger consumes her. She pushes him onto his back and he lies on the cement of the rooftop while she claims his mouth. She settles on top of him, their bodies pressed together._

_He pulls away opening his mouth, perhaps to protest, but the sight of his open mouth is too much for her. She closes the space between them again and thrusts her tongue into his mouth, probing, discovering, and memorizing the taste of him._

_He pries her off of him gently and sits up. She closes her eyes in embarrassment. "Katniss," he says softly. _

_She leans forward into the patch of cement his body just vacated and cries into her hands because the Peeta she knew would never have pushed her away. But the Katniss she had been would never have broken down in a boy's arms or fallen so completely for anyone either. She cries harder._

_"I'm so sorry," he says, "I'm so sorry." He smoothes her sweaty hair back from her face and rests a hand on her back soothingly. The whole time, she can only think how _nice _he is, even when pushing her away. _

_She sits up eventually, and Peeta looks relieved. She clamps down on the urge to kiss him again. She can deduce, based on his reaction, that to kiss him again would be a monumentally bad idea. _

_She stands up and walks a few paces away from him to resist temptation. Leaning against the casement of the roof, she can feel Peeta's apologetic gaze on her back. One year, she thinks to herself. But really, she would wait for him forever._

They return to District 12, and she makes it her responsibility to take care of him. He looks lost and alone, so she shows him his childhood home, his family bakery and their school. She ensures that he eats breakfast, lunch and dinner. He bakes sometimes, and she takes hope in the fact that his memories exist someplace inside him. He paints her portraits of the woods, the marketplace, and the early spring primroses. She has never felt such friendship with anyone, but she has never felt the loss of anyone's love more keenly.

Now that the fence has been removed, wildlife is no longer confined to the woods. She catches a badger slinking around her house one day. She still hunts in the woods even though she no longer needs to, in memory of her past life and her father. One day she takes Peeta to a patch of woods that she often visited with Gale.

_It is a serene clearing, where deer camouflage themselves in the bracken and squirrels dart lightfooted over the ground in the springtime. The sun shines directly overhead and as they lean down onto the dewy grass, Katniss thinks that they could stay out here forever and escape all the memories the ruins of the town bring to life._

_She startles from her reverie when Peeta touches the nape of her neck. The hair on the back of her neck prickles and stands on end. She smiles at him._

_"Tell me something private about you that I used to know before," he says._

_She feels a little hazy because his hand still rests on the back of her neck, but now she feels giddier than before. Peeta has asked her before to tell him about himself and his experiences, but never to talk about herself._

_And suddenly, she knows what she is going to share. Because if this doesn't remind him of their shared past, nothing else will. And if not, he fell in love with her once for this. And she wants, desperately, for him to fall in love with her over again._

_She searches her memory for a happy song. This day could only warrant a happy song. Her voice clear and sharp, she sings. Peeta's eyes flutter closed and he pulls her into his side. They lie side by side, hips locked together while she sings a verse._

Here it's safe, here it's warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you

_Between the look in Peeta's eyes and the chorus that the mockingjays have taken up, she feels whole for the first time since her father died._

She brings him breakfast every morning, tapping on the window of his bedroom until he opens the door, bleary-eyed. She might not cook like Peeta, but she can make a decent omelette, and she loves to see him first thing in the morning, because waking up beside him is one memory that she remembers vividly from nights spent on the train after the Games.

Sometimes she opens the door quietly and steals into his room before he wakes. He doesn't seem to mind. It feels intimate to see his eyes swim into focus on her, with a slow smile lighting his face. And before he wakes, she can let her eyes roam every inch of his face and exposed torso.

Sometimes, she can't restrain herself, and she'll brush a kiss on his forehead, or finger-comb his mop of blonde hair.

Sometimes she walks in to see him thrashing in his sleep. At times like this she knows that the memories haven't truly left him, and he can still subconsciously remember the Games and the torture. His nightmares simultaneously bring her hope, that he will recover, and pain, for his suffering.

_One sleepless night, she sneaks into his room after dawn. The sight of him is usually enough to calm her, but today he seems agitated in his sleep. He shifts restlessly in bed while the bedcovers tangle between his feet and eventually fall to the floor. His eyebrows furrow and she knows that the memories haunt him, too. The Capitol haunts them all. _

_She shakes him awake with one hand on his shoulder. He mumbles under his breath and stirs, chest heaving and blue eyes finding her. She hurts for him._

_"It was only a dream," she tells him soothingly, rubbing his shoulder. _

_"Only a dream," he repeats hoarsely._

_"Yes," she confirms._

_He falls back on to the bed and closes his eyes. She watches as his breathing begins to even, her thoughts wavering between want and logic. Sometime over the course of the year, Peeta had grown into an able-bodied man. Her gaze slips over his form. His shoulders have broadened, his arms a mass of muscle and his body lean and strong. Tearing away her gaze, she starts to tiptoe towards the door, but his voice stops her. _

_"Will you stay with me?" he asks, his voice a sleep-scratchy whisper._

_"Of course," she replies. How could she say otherwise to him? She sits on the edge of his bed but he pulls aside the bedcovers before drawing her into his warm side. _

_"Thank you." _

_Her heart flutters and her head spins, until it dawns on her that she is only a source of comfort and familiarity. _

_She lies awake pressed into his side._

Somehow, without their knowledge, she begins to live with him, to the extent that an entire wardrobe in Peeta's bedroom is dedicated to her clothes. It's hard to wake up beside him and not slide her hands underneath his shoulders, not press her lips to his collarbone. Her presence keeps his nightmares at bay, he tells her cheerfully, so he can make a compromise. She revels in his compliance every time she touches him. He rarely returns her advances, but she revels in his permissiveness still. She thinks—rather, she knows with firsthand knowledge—that Peeta would be a very attentive lover.

It feels new and nice to share so much with him, and sometimes she forgets that they aren't really in a relationship. If memory serves her correctly, however, sometimes he forgets too.

_The evening that Gale visits District 12, scarlet and rust-hued leaves litter Peeta's front lawn, and a bitter wind scatters them around the yard. He hadn't been to District 12 since the bombing, but now, finally, he stands in front of the house that Greasy Sae has directed him to. She comes face to face with him while raking the lawn. _

_"Gale!" she cries. She feels uplifted as she watches his mouth curve into a smile. She feels guilt-ridden when she remembers her harsh rejection of Gale, in light of the kind sweet way Peeta speaks to her, ever aware of her emotions. _

_His easygoing smile and dark features seem so familiar to her, so she lets herself delve in the memories a little bit. She asks about her mom and Hazelle and Posy, or in other words, her life before the Games._

_Gale gauges her with a strange look in his dark eyes, but he does not move to touch her and neither does she._

_From across the lawn, she suddenly turns to catch Peeta's blue eyes in the kitchen window. His gaze burns a hole in her. She smiles at Peeta from the distance, to ease any pain he might be feeling in his prosthetic leg from the frigid wind._

_But a few moments after she has turned back to Gale, Peeta has joined them. Peeta and Gale shake hands politely, but she can sense an undercurrent of a deeper emotion. While she tells Gale about hunting game in the woods and the rising number of moose, Peeta stands so close to her his hip brushes hers. _

_She swallows, unable to concentrate in this proximity. Peeta uses the lapse in conversation to draw his arm around her shoulders. She's longed for him to touch her so much, that even the momentary touch brings her intense relief. _

_Under Gale's scrutiny, Peeta says loudly, "We'll just be turning in for bed. You have a long day tomorrow, Katniss." He kisses her cheek, and she feels weak at the knees._

_"Yes," Katniss replies unable to think beyond the fact that his arm is wrapped around her and the way he looks at her expectantly._

_Gale stiffens before sighing deeply. She says goodbye to Gale and he strides away, offering her a brief salute. Peeta carts her towards the house, one arm still slung casually across her shoulders, and she lets him take charge of the situation, settling in against his shoulder._

_He shuts the front door closed rather loudly and wipes his boots on the mat. She raises her eyebrows at him._

_He ignores her, but she suddenly she needs to know very badly what he meant by that possessive hand on her shoulder._

_"What was that?" she inquires. He stays silent so she places a hand on his shoulder and wheels him around to face her._

_"This, I mean," she adds before kissing his cheek. He inhales more sharply than is necessary. _

_She feels encouraged and empowered by his brief jealous display. She moves her mouth down his cheek slowly, until it meets his lips, and then it feels like she isn't in control at all when she ravages his lips like she can't get enough of him. She kisses him again, and again, giving in to that impulse that has been driving her near wild since his rescue from the Capitol._

_"Peeta," she mumbles and her lips fumble against his as she mouths out his name. He moans back her name against her lips, and hearing him say her name like that gives her a power surge. She has her fingers clutching his forearms tightly, so she loosens her hold slowly to stroke his muscles through the fabric of his shirt._

_She can't figure out what, but something is different about this encounter. And then she realizes the difference is that he hasn't told her to stop. Unlike the day the news of Prim's death had reached her, he hasn't stopped her._

_ She looks deeply into his blue eyes and releases her hold on his arms. He lets her leave, but she detects disappointment in the flurry of emotions on his face._

Slowly but surely, Peeta reconstructs the bakery. As the year comes to a close, the town, including Katniss, gathers to watch Peeta cut the ribbon. Hearing the townsfolk cheer, Katniss feels her heart swell with pride.

She follows the crowd inside the bakery, her gaze wandering. Carrot bread and shortbread cookies are placed in pinwheel fashion on silverware trays for the grand opening. Children crowd round Peeta, and he gladly indulges them with pastries. Katniss gives him an affectionate shake of the head.

Momentarily, her gaze stops on the display. Iced cakes are visible through the giant expanse of window, and the sun glints brightly on the glass. Her heart skips a beat as she sees the tiered cakes. One is dotted with spangled purple flowers, and the other with yellow petals. As she watches Peeta dole out shortbread cookies to the children, her heart twinges with hope and the possibilities leave her shaky.

When the rush dies down, she waits patiently until Peeta has thanked the last customers. He sinks heavily into a high-backed chair behind the cash register and massages his leg.

She feels afraid to ask him. She feels afraid to look at him. Will his gaze seem different? Perhaps reflect clarity, or affection for her.

She walks behind him and settles a hand on each of his shoulders. He sighs deeply, and she feels his shoulders incline and fall with his breathing. He leans into her touch.

"I saw the iced cakes," she tells him. Peeta nods.

A bubble of hope shimmers, a product of her own desperation. A fragile bubble, at best.

"Did you like them?" he asks.

"Very much," she replies, letting her breath exhale in a rush. And before she loses her nerve, she asks, "Do you—Do you remember _them_?"

He shakes his head. "I read your memory book," he says, referring to the notebook where she writes epitaphs for the fallen from the war. A pregnant silence follows, and Katniss unbraids and re-braids her hair with shaky hands.

He breaks the silence first. "You loved me a lot," he says, watching her face carefully.

"Yes," she says.

"What was I like?" he asks her. He averts his gaze, now.

She tilts her head, trying to discern the carefully disguised emotions on his face. He was always the better actor.

She continues to speak, in a brief uninhibited moment. "You're kind—and good—just good. You saved my life a million times over. But you also—you gave me life. You gave me hope." Her heart fills with gratitude, and she glances at him.

Pain flashes across his features before he covers his face with one palm. Frightened and confused, she pries his hand away from his face.

"Peeta, what's the matter?" she questions. She smoothes the hair back from his forehead.

He meets her gaze glaring accusingly. "You liked me—"His brow creases. "—you liked him more than me." Once voiced, the thought sounds childish, and he blushes furiously.

She chuckles. "Peeta, you and him are the same person."

"No," he replies flatly. "No, I'm not the same person."

She laughs at his adamant response before meeting his gaze squarely. "I knew you then and I know you now, and I know that you would never kill anything to save yourself."

She hovers over his mouth. "You know who you are, even if you've forgotten for a little while." He accepts her response as well as her kiss.

A year comes and goes. One night, while they lie together in his bed, he shifts until his head leans against her shoulder.

"I think I'm falling for you," he whispers into her ear.

Her heart stops.

"I don't know what to do," he confides.

She wraps him in her arms, feeling the tremble that runs through him at her touch. "I fell for you a long time ago, so I think it's safe for you to fall for me a little bit too," she breathes back.

"I'm no closer to remembering than I was a year ago," he reminds her.

She takes a breath and admits, "I wanted you to remember so you would remember how you felt about me."

"But it happened anyways," he continues for her.

"It would always have happened," she corrects.

He smiles at her and touches her face tenderly, and she beams back out of surprise, and affection for this man, and pure unadulterated _joy._

That night, she loves him, all of him, without inhibitions. And he loves her back.

She envisions the future. She lives for it, not for the memories caged in the past.

She falls into routine following their marriage and the birth of her two children: a boy, and soon afterwards a girl.

One morning, the girl sits still by her feet while Katniss untangles the unruly black hair. She combs it back, even as the girl winces.

"You shouldn't have left it knotted for so long, dear," she tells the girl. The girl shrugs and Katniss stands her in front of the mirror while she straightens the girl's bangs. She stills suddenly, as she catches sight of the girl's reflection. The girl wears a red dress with puffed sleeves. Her arching cheekbones and piercing blue eyes give her a look of determination. She is reminded dimly of a far-off memory of herself, as she once was.

Katniss smiles. "All set, darling. Hurry down—You don't want to be late on the first day."

Following the girl, Katniss watches her bound down the flight of stairs, colliding right into her father. Her father appraises her with bright blue eyes, before his eyes run over the dishevelled pitch black hair and pleated red dress. He smiles, and then freezes as if overwhelmed by emotion. His gaze finds Katniss and she beams at him, sharing in his delight. He gives her a pensive smile.


End file.
